Open Invitation
by SGJunkie
Summary: It was after the sixth time she broke in that he stopped locking his door. Pre-series.


Title: Open Invitation

Author: SGJunkie

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: No money is being made from this story, it's all just for fun.

It was after the sixth time she broke in that he stopped locking his door.

It was a strange friendship that developed when he came home one day to find the lab tech sitting on his couch. She sat calmly while he ranted and threatened her; she had after all broken into his home. Eventually he stopped and just stared at her, a stare that made grown men – marines – shake in their boots; she didn't even flinch. She thought that after a bad case he shouldn't be alone; she'd used the computer to track him down and had simply waited for him to return, he hadn't thought to ask how she got in.

Two kids had died during a case in September and she broke in again; sat and waited for him in the basement. She understood his need for the boat to occupy both his mind and his body, she didn't utter a word as she sat and ate ice cream on the staircase. He couldn't quite figure out why he let her do it. He just couldn't kick her out and at two in the morning when he'd nearly sanded the skin off his own fingers, she marched him into his bedroom with a shot of jack and an order to sleep; he was suddenly glad he hadn't made her leave.

Only a week later and he broke his collar bone chasing down a suspect, he'd caught the bad guy and had him in a cell before he saw fit to go the hospital. It didn't bother him too much he'd sustained worse injuries and survived, but apparently she didn't agree. The third time she broke into his home he was honestly surprised to see her. Nothing bad had happened and it wouldn't take long to mend his broken bone; but she thought he needed looking after. He discovered it was hard to argue with someone when they simply smiled and waited for you to realise the truth, but after trying and failing spectacularly to cook himself dinner he was finally convinced she was right. She'd smirked and called him stubborn but none the less had helped.

The fourth time and he knew how she was doing it. He heard the metal in the lock scrape slightly and had been standing with his gun pointed at her head as she walked in. Somehow it didn't surprise him that she could pick a lock faster than him, he'd learnt long ago not to underestimate her. She smiled at him sadly and told him she'd just found out that one of her grandparents had passed away. That night they sanded the boat together and when she was almost dead on her feet he'd carried her up to his room and spent the night on the couch.

He heard the footsteps on the stairs and didn't have to look up from his work to know who was there. She placed the Chinese food on his bench and picked up the bottle of whiskey. Refilling his mug she produced her own from a coat pocket, she knew the rules by now. That night the conflict was in his head, he should have known she'd pick up on it. It wasn't long before she ferreted out the problem and made him realise the truth, Anthony DiNozzo was a good cop. He offered him a job the next day.

It was a Wednesday in March that he came home to the sound of a TV in his living room, not only had she picked his lock again but she'd moved in her own TV and DVD player. There was no conflict, no emergency, and it had been a good day. She told him that he at least needed to understand a few of the movie references his new agent kept making, so he spent the night eating popcorn on the sofa with his forensic scientist. Three films later when she was sound asleep on his shoulder he kissed the top of her head and covered her with the blanket he kept on the back of the sofa before falling asleep himself. He woke the next morning with a kink in his neck and a smile on his face.

It was on the way to work he realised that he couldn't imagine his life without her in it, regardless of appearance she was a constant light when his world started to get dark. He could have told her that but words were never his thing. He could have simply given her a key but she'd never had any trouble getting in before and the idea seemed a little redundant. As it was Gibbs simply stopped locking his front door, Abby was always welcome.

As for any intruders, well he had a sig in the hallway and a rifle in the basement.


End file.
